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Current Location: OTA | Game of Thrones

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[ Pacing in his tent, nearly seething. ]

[ The invasion of personal space doesn't bother him, he's used to it. What does bother him is the fact that he's not looking for a fight. ]

I stepped into the wrong tent. My apologizes. [ He looks down at the ground for a moment. He noticed the language trouble when Drogo first spoke. Dothraki. Halbarad had only just come to this place and he had heard of the Dothraki but had yet to encounter one so closely. ]

[ And that's when Drogo gives him room to breath, but not until after he gives him a hard look. He doesn't go far, though, and he's still watching him.

It takes him a moment to pick out the right words for a response. The edge doesn't fade from his words and they're still as gruff as ever. He's trying to figure out just why Halbarad is in his camp to begin with. ] From where do you come?

[ He's grateful for the room between them but doesn't dare to move at all, although he does relax slightly now that he's not being trapped by Drogo's large chest. He stands a little straighter and speaks slowly. ]

I come from lands far away from here. [ He gives small hand motions to help his words. ]

[ Drogo finally settles a good few feet from him, but still close enough to seriously harm Halbarad if he makes a move to leave his tent. It seems his Khalessi is doing good things to the amount of patience he has.

He watches him, first thinking of the lands of which Daenerys spoke and then discarding the thought with another look at his weapons. ] Across the black salt sea?

[ Slowly he picks his own words carefully. One misunderstanding and he could be in a lot of trouble. Again he uses hand motions to said his words. ] I set sail for Valinor...across The Great Sea. I have no heard of The Black Salt Sea.

[ Hearing this makes him think that he may be on lands that his people, the people of Middle-Earth, have not yet sailed to? ]

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